How fully I had given myself.
How fiercely I had dreamed of a future that would never exist.
For a brief moment, all I felt was an unbearable longing for that time—our innocence, our unquestioning trust.
I missed us. The version of us that existed before everything shattered.
Then I forced myself to breathe, anchoring myself in the present.
These memories, painful as they were, were part of our story. A story that—for better or worse—was not yet finished.
“It looks painful,” I murmured.
He nodded, quickly averting his gaze, as if avoiding my eyes was the only way he could keep speaking.
“It is. Especially when I realize how many mistakes I made. How much time I wasted believing lies and ignoring the truth right in front of me.”
His voice cracked.
I saw the effort it took for him to maintain control, and my chest ached in response.
“Enrico…” I began, unsure of what to say.
He looked back at me with an intensity that stole my breath.
“I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me, Valentina. But I need you to know how sorry I am. How empty and lonely these years were without you. Without Clara.”
He inhaled deeply, fighting the emotion threatening to spill over.
It was hard to see him like that—so exposed, so raw—without feeling something inside me begin to soften.
“I know you’re sorry,” I said quietly. “I see it every day in how you treat Clara, in how you try to respect me—even when I push you away.”
He nodded, offering a faint, sad smile.
“I know I don’t deserve more than that. I know I may never recover what I destroyed. But I needed to say it. I needed you to know.”
My heart hammered in my chest.
For a long moment, we sat there in silence—side by side on the floor, surrounded by memories and words left unspoken.
The closeness was strange and familiar all at once.
And with unsettling clarity, I realized something:
Enrico was no longer the same man who had destroyed my life years ago.
The man beside me was someone marked by his mistakes—someone desperately searching for a way back.
And despite the compassion I felt, I knew I could not fully open my heart again.
Broken or not, he would never again be someone before whom I lowered all my defenses.
And yet…
Sitting there in that heavy, meaningful silence, I realized that—for the first time—I wanted to.
That realization terrified me more than anything I had ever felt.
